


because it makes sense

by cakecakecake



Series: teeter dance [4]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakecakecake/pseuds/cakecakecake
Summary: it didn't make sense because they were chosen.
Relationships: Hop/Yuuri | Gloria
Series: teeter dance [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808371
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	because it makes sense

At the edge of the Slumbering Weald, there is a house.

A tiny house. Cozy in a rustic sort of way, with a winding path of stepping-stones leading up through the archway, all strung up in dangling lights and wind-chimes. It’s got all the charms of sleepy Postwick in the hanging terrariums and the climbing ivy sprouting through the cracks of the brickwork. Glowing mushrooms from the Tangle can grow here, the professor-husband discovered, so they light up the pathway home in the forest's misty terrain. Wild Pokemon have made nests in the shrubbery and flower gardens over the years, much to the wife’s delight. It doesn’t make much sense -- the soil here should be too dry for the flowers. The berry trees shouldn’t flourish here, but they do. The house is new, built within their first year of marriage, but it looks as old as Hammerlocke. They don’t get it, but Hop and Gloria love it. They love their little house. It makes sense for them.

Hop’s mother hated it, at first. She thought the home of an esteemed professor and a celebrated Champion ought to have a bit more sparkle and sophistication. It was too hipster, as she so funnily put it. The kitchen was too small and the library was too big, not enough space for children to play. Hop would hit thirty before she would finally let it go, and once she did, she grew to like it in spite of herself. The little kitchen had just enough room to dance with her son.

Maybe that was why Hop wasn’t a father -- not a builder nor a fixer either, Gloria would learn. He’s happy just being a son -- and a brother. And a husband. (A husband most of all, she thinks.) She's the one to hammer and nail and saw and glue. And that’s fine, because Hop builds other things. Her confidence, her spirit. He fixes her heart after longer, harder days. He waters and cleans and cooks, when he’s not researching or discovering or studying. She tells him he’s a father in his own right: to his students, his Pokemon. He would say he wasn’t always like this, but he would be wrong. 

Hop was always caring. Caring for Pokemon, caring for students, for trainers. Caring for their little family of the magical monsters they’ve raised side-by-side since they were kids. Caring for her, most of all, even if he says he could do better. He cares for her better than she cares for herself. _That’s why you’re married_ , his brother had said, but he would be wrong, too.

People say they married because it made sense -- to that, Gloria would say “well, of course.” But there’s always something strange about the way they put it. "Because you were childhood friends", "because you were Challenger rivals", "because the mythical guardians chose the two of you". Of course all that makes sense --

“Coffee, babe?” 

The sun is setting and she’s still on her knees in the garden, Combee buzzing about as she fixes a new pot for the Qualot tree. Still a baby, it is. She forgot to water it proper and now it’s a little too dry, in need of some extra care. Fresh soil ought to take care of it. She didn’t realize how quickly the afternoon had already passed. 

Hop is leaning over, looking down at her with a book in one hand and his glasses sliding down his nose. The sun glows orange behind him, the crown of his head haloed in a shimmer of violet light. Gloria smiles. 

She gets on her feet. She grabs him by the front of his crew neck shirt with her dirty hands. He smells like citrus and honey. She lets herself taste it in the breath they share between them before capturing his lips in a kiss. 

They married because it made sense, but it didn’t make sense because they were chosen. It's not some destiny rubbish. It’s not because they were friends or rivals or that they’ve known each other since they were kids -- 

Hop’s fingers wind in the tangle of her sun-warm hair. Her hips sink into his, and the book he’d been holding falls to the ground with a soft thunk. He draws her in closer against him, parting his mouth to invite her tongue to roll along his. She does just that. Nips at his bottom lip. His fingertips are so warm in the roots of her hair. He’s slow to pull away and when he does, a dust of rose is painted across his nose and cheeks. He looks to have had his breath stolen away. There’s a dreaminess in her heart for it. 

“Wow, what was that for?” he gushes, straightening his shirt. 

She shrugs, grinning. “Just ‘cos I love you. Bit late for coffee though.” 

“Mm, but I’m off tomorrow,” he pouts, slipping his hand in the front pocket of her gardening overalls. “Thought we could stay up late together. Haven’t done that in a while.” 

Gloria grins even wider. Pulls him close again for another kiss, one that she can feel him melt into. She rests her hand in the dip in his neck, a laugh dying in her throat. His pulse is racing under her fingers.

That’s why it makes sense, she thinks. Because every time they kiss, it feels like the first time.


End file.
